


take my hand, i'll teach you to dance

by imstephtacular



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Dancing, Domestic, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Fluff, Fluffy, Light Angst, M/M, Married Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, background Larry, domestic ziam, fratty niall, larry stylinson - Freeform, preppy liam, proposal, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imstephtacular/pseuds/imstephtacular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn hates parties, always has, but he's a hell of a dancer<br/>Liam loves parties, always has, but he's got two left feet</p><p> </p><p>Or...teenage Zayn teaches teenage Liam to dance and after that, they always seem to gravitate to each other</p>
            </blockquote>





	take my hand, i'll teach you to dance

**Author's Note:**

> I had the He Is We (feat. Aaron Gillespie) song "All About Us" stuck in my head and thought I'd try to write a story around it so this is what happened. Title from that song. Also: I cannot resist fluffy/domestic/happy Ziam in any way shape or form 
> 
> HIGHLY recommend listening to the song before or during reading and taking a peek at the lyrics, as they are a thread throughout the story and make sense if you're familiar with them. Up to you ;)

Zayn’s always hated parties. He hates all the strangers, friends of his mum and dad, prods and pokes, questions and quips, bad food and strong drinks and talking in circles. He hated them when he was a kid, but at least then he could hide off in a room alone and read a comic or chapter book in peace. At seventeen, he can’t beg off as easily, especially now that “his hormones are at an all-time high” according to his mum.

**

Liam’s always loved parties. He loves the lights, the decorations, the colorful outfits and silly themes. The catered food, the drinks he sneaks that make him woozy, the way his sisters force him to dance with them even though he has two left feet. When he was a kid, he was a shining star, constantly being asked to sing, to show off, to entertain. Now, at seventeen, he doesn’t want to be a party novelty anymore. He wishes he could just escape.

 

**

“Zayn, sweetie, come over here, please,” his mother beckons. Zayn groans, shrugging off from his post against the back wall, and approaches his mother, mustering up something close to a smile. “Zayn, honey, I know this wasn’t your first choice of events for the evening.” Zayn holds back a snort and nods politely. “I’m glad you came. There’s somebody I’d like you to meet.” She holds out her arm and welcomes a boy about Zayn’s age into the circle of people she’s standing with. The boy lifts his head and smiles warmly in Zayn’s direction.

“Hi,” he extends his hand. “Liam.” Zayn goes to return the favor, but can’t seem to remember how to move or speak. His mother clears her throat and he finally reaches his hand out to shake the other boy’s, mumbling his name in introduction. “Mum says you go to Bradley?” Zayn nods, acknowledging his school, wondering where this Liam character came from, who he is, why he’s here, how he looks like that.

“Yeah, just started senior year, you?” Zayn finally regains his winning conversation skills and watches as the adults around them slowly fade away and leave the two boys to converse alone. Zayn motions for Liam to follow him to the back of the room, away from prying eyes, and Liam obliges, still grinning.

“Senior too, over at Canton Prep,” Liam beams. Of course, a prep school boy. Zayn should have known from the handshake, the smiles, the neatly pressed shirt and slacks, the pristine tie, the shined shoes.

“What brings you here?” Zayn asks, testing the waters. He finds a set of cushy chairs near the coat room and motions for Liam to sit across from him.

“Dad works for C&O, just started last month. I’ve been attending Prep since last year, boarding, and my parents finally moved into town with dad’s job transfer so I can live back at home now.”

“Oh,” is all Zayn can manage.

Quickly catching on that Zayn isn’t one for much chat, Liam continues. “It’s weird being back at home, but I like Prep well enough. Hate parties though,” he finally concedes, his careful, perfect demeanor cracking slightly.

“Me too,” Zayn adds, grinning. “Always have.”

“Yeah? I used to like them. Thought they were fun as a lad,” Liam goes on. “But now, not so much…”

Zayn is itching to ask why, find out more about this mysterious, seemingly perfect boy. Liam reads his mind.

“I sing,” he blushes. “That’s…my thing, I guess. I’m a singer. Mum and dad always used to have me sing at parties, entertain their friends. It was fun as a little kid, but now I’m kind of…”

“Over it?” Zayn suggests.

Liam’s eyes crinkle. “Yeah. Over it.” Liam stares at Zayn dreamily, lost in some sort of thought. Finally he asks Zayn what his story is.

“Not much. Dad also works at C&O, has forever. Been coming to these parties long as I can remember. Usually I just find a quiet place and read a book, but mum frowns on that now.”

Liam knits his eyebrows. “Not fond of you expanding your horizons?” he asks so sincerely Zayn wants to pinch himself.

Zayn chuckles. “No, it’s not that. She keeps an eye on me now, thinks I’ll find some poor girl, er, or, gent, I guess, and sneak off and snog ‘em to death or summat.” Zayn laughs again, deep and low, and realizes how silly he sounds.

“Mums,” is all Liam says and Zayn nods. They fall into an easy silence for a few moments before an announcement rings through the room.

_Ladies and gentlemen, this is the last dance of the evening._  
 _Find your partners and meet us on the floor!_  
 _Don’t be shy!_

Liam and Zayn groan in unison and break into laughter all the same.

“Not a dancer either, I take it?”

Zayn shrugs. “I know how, I just don’t,” he states simply.

“Wish I could,” Liam admits wistfully. “I’m an oaf on the dance floor, tripping over myself and stepping on toes.”

Zayn looks Liam up and down. His impeccably matched outfit, flawless hair, and charming smile could have fooled Zayn. And then, Zayn doesn’t know what comes over him, can’t stop himself from speaking, and can’t believe his own ears when he blurts out “I’ll teach you, if you want.”

Liam’s face explodes into a smile, genuine and relieved. “Would you, really? Oh, mum would be tickled.”

“Yeah, let’s…follow me,” Zayn stammers, forging ahead, cursing himself for the scene that’s unfolding although apparently deep down it’s exactly what he wants.

The dance floor is filling with couples of all ages and sizes, twirling in circles, swaying to the beat, tripping and laughing and having the time of their lives. Zayn finds an open spot around the edge of the floor and turns to meet Liam as he catches up. “Okay, I’ll…I guess I’ll lead?” Zayn’s mum had taught him to dance as a child, at one of the many parties. She stole him away before he could sneak off and let him step on her feet as she walked and talked him through the steps. He was a natural and could lead her himself by the time he was eight. Zayn awkwardly places Liam’s hands where they should go and his whole body seizes at the collision of their skin. Liam just grins stupidly as Zayn explains what to do in a whisper, letting the music guide him. The song is an old tune, one his mum played all the time when Zayn was growing up. Zayn catches himself humming along and forgets momentarily that Liam is lost and is looking to Zayn for help. At first, Liam fumbles all over, stepping on Zayn’s toes, bumping their noses, gripping Zayn’s arm too tightly— not that Zayn minds any of it, but he sees what Liam meant about needing help.

As the song ends, Liam has sort of gotten the hang of it and is thanking Zayn for being such a great teacher. Zayn blushes, mumbles that’s it nothing, and they break apart. Zayn’s mother appears out of nowhere, blushing with pride. “Oh honey, you looked lovely out there! It’s nice to see you still have it in you.”

Zayn turns a shade of crimson specifically reserved for embarrassing mom moments and Liam laughs. “He was teaching clumsy old me some moves. I think I’m getting the hang of things.” Liam’s mother joins them, leaning to tell Liam in a hushed tone that it’s time to leave. “If you’ll excuse us, we have got to get going. It was lovely meeting you all,” Liam beams, bowing politely as he makes his exit. “I’ll see you around, Zayn?”

Zayn nods, thinking how wonderful it would be, but doesn’t get his hopes up.

**

It’s three years before Zayn seems Liam again. Zayn is home from uni for the holidays, out with some friends from high school at the pub. As they’re catching up and drinking beers, a band starts to set up on the tiny stage.

The singer is testing the microphone when Zayn hears the band rehearsing a song he recognizes. It’s an old tune, one he and his mum used to dance to, the same one from that one party that one year, and he gets lost in a memory. “Zayn!” one of his friends shouts, snapping him back from his reverie. “Mate, you there?”

“Yeah, just…remembering.”

There are only a few other groups in the pub, but at soon as the band picks up, couples trickle into the tiny space sometimes used for dancing. Zayn watches for a moment as people crowd the floor, clinging close and swaying to the beat. For a second, he thinks he knows one of the dancers, but he can’t place him by just the back of his head. When he turns, Zayn sees a man with crinkly eyes and a boyish smile, too smartly dressed for the pub, but just right for dancing to this kind of song.

Zayn stares a bit too long and, in autopilot, moves towards the dance floor, reaching out as he approaches the man, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. “Liam?” Zayn asks, barely above a whisper.

“Zayn?” he replies, surprised and smiling wider. He breaks away from his partner, excusing himself politely, and turns to Zayn. “Wow, how long has it been?”

“Three years,” Zayn answers, too quickly. “Or…something like that,” he recovers lamely.

“Yeah, wow. Three years.” Liam guides him towards the bar, his hand on Zayn’s back, and Zayn is electrocuted, trying not to twitch. “Fancy that. How have you been?”

“Good, good. Things are good,” Zayn replies, again feeling lame. Liam is still sparkly and shiny and sharp and lovely and Zayn is just Zayn. “I’m studying art at uni.”

“That’s fantastic,” Liam beams, sounding as genuine as he did on that first night about every word that passed Zayn’s lips. “No dance, I take it?” Liam chuckles.

“No, no, I learned all that from mum, just a hobby,” Zayn blushes, scratching at his ear. “Visual art. Drawing, painting, mostly. Some graphic design.” Liam looks impressed and doesn’t offer a thing about himself, clearly enraptured with Zayn’s life. “What about you?” Zayn asks, steadying himself against the nearest barstool.

“Oh, finished at Prep, now I’m at uni about an hour from here studying music.”

“Vocal?” Zayn can’t help but ask.

“Education,” Liam admits. “I still sing, but performing was more of a hobby. I think my real passion is the study of it so I can teach it, show kids the beauty in it.” Liam shimmers with pride and it takes everything in Zayn not to reach out and cup his face and kiss him wildly because Liam is the simple loveliest person he has ever had the opportunity to meet and he’s finally reunited and everything feels right.

“That sounds smashing,” Zayn murmurs, keeping his tone measured. “I bet you’ll be great at it.”

“Thanks, mate,” Liam claps him on the shoulder, still smiling as always.

A beat passes before Zayn realizes he should speak again. The song has ended and Zayn thinks it wise to take a risk, like that night years ago. “This is a great tune for dancing,” he tries, finding the confidence he somehow mustered back then. “Want to give it a go? See what you remember?”

“Ah, I would love to, but I’ve got to get going,” Liam frowns, checking his watch because of course Liam still wears and actually uses a watch. “Rain check?” Liam offers with such sincerity Zayn can barely match his frown.

“Yeah, definitely, next time then,” Zayn says coolly, shrouding his disappointment as well as he’s taught himself to do over the years.

“Until then,” Liam reaches out to squeeze Zayn’s hand before grinning once more, locking their eyes together, and flitting away and out the door.

**

Next time comes three months later. Zayn got the invite for Harry’s wedding months ago and still had not found a date and was planning on going stag. Not that anyone expected him to bring a date. Zayn never did. It was assumed he was coming alone.

“Zee!” Harry shouts, running towards him, tuxedo-ed limbs flailing, scooping Zayn into a body-crushing hug and bursting into laughter.

“Haz!” Zayn chokes out as Harry sets him down gently, smoothing out his tux and fluffing his hair.

“I’m so so happy you came!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, love,” Zayn assures him. “And I can’t wait to finally meet the future Mr….?”

“Tomlinson-Styles. We’re hyphenating,” Harry explains, a dreamy look in his eyes. “I can’t believe you haven’t gotten the chance to meet my Lou yet. I promise you’ll adore him. He’s a cheeky arse, but you’ll love him anyways.”

Zayn laughs and claps a hand on Harry’s broad shoulder. “I trust you. But better go, don’t want to hold things up. I’ll see you afterwards. Congrats, mate. Really, really happy for you.”

Harry smiles full with all of his teeth, revealing his ever-precious dimple, gives Zayn another bear hug, and jogs off to his place before the ceremony starts. Zayn trails behind, finding his seat on Harry’s side of the room, and scans the space for familiar faces.

Two rows back, on the other groom’s side, Zayn spots that now-recognizable back of head. “Liam?” he stage whispers, learning to the side.

“Zayn?” he stage whispers back, leaning towards Zayn. He starts making strange gestures with his hands and Zayn eventually gives up on guessing his charades and mouths catch up afterwards before turning back to his seat. The entire ceremony is lovely, but all Zayn can think about is that rain check with Liam.

After the happy couple says I do and everyone in the room, including Zayn, is dabbing at their misty eyes, that song starts to play and Zayn feels something bubble up in his chest. That song, the one from his childhood, from that first night, from the pub, is following him, beckoning him. He follows the crowd of guests to the reception area and positions himself near the back of the room, as usual. People are mingling, discussing how lovely the ceremony was, asking whose side everyone is on, and Zayn just listens, lets the strangers’ words fill his ears. He closes his eyes momentarily and feels a light tap against his foot. He sneaks a peek and finds himself face to face with Liam, drinks in hand. “I owe you one,” he says, offering some sort of punch to Zayn and clinking his cup against it.

“Thanks,” Zayn says, taking a sip, gathering his thoughts.

Luckily, Liam leads off. “Harry’s side then?”

“Mm,” Zayn nods. “Louis’ I presume?”

“The one and only. We went to Prep together.”

“Harry and I went to Bradley together.”

“Huh. Small world,” Liam adds, pausing to sip from his punch as well. A calm silence falls between them as they both sip their drinks and survey the room. Zayn practically chokes when he sees Harry’s great aunt nearly lose her wig busting a move on the dance floor and when Liam turns to see what the fuss is, he dumps his drink down the front of his crisp, white shirt.

“Oh, damnit, I’m sorry,” Zayn mutters, grabbing for napkins and furiously blotting Liam’s chest, ignoring the fact that he’s touching Liam’s chest this intimately.

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Liam says through laughter, blotting the stain on top of Zayn’s hands, their fingers tangling hopelessly and helplessly. “Not your fault a bit, I’m just clumsy and can’t resist a good laugh!”

“Well your shirt’s all wrecked now,” Zayn commiserates.

“I have other shirts,” Liam shrugs, tossing the now-pink napkins into the trash. “Now. If I remember correctly…”

Zayn’s heart stops in his chest. He knows what’s coming. He can’t believe Liam’s remembered. He was prepared to forget the whole thing. And now it’s happening and he’s not prepared. He flicks himself in the wrist, discreetly, and calms himself down. “…yes?”

“I owe you more than a drink,” Liam continues, motioning to the dance floor.

“You have quite a good memory,” Zayn smirks.

“More than you know,” Liam adds and before Zayn can analyze his meaning, the song is changing and the band is beginning a rolling rendition of Sway. It’s a tune Zayn has danced to hundreds of times, a tune he knows every word to, a tune he’s always wanted to dance to with…someone. And if he’s being honest, lately he’s imagined that someone being Liam.

Liam holds out his hand to Zayn and bows. Lifting his head back up, Liam says, “In an effort to thank you for teaching me everything I know, I would like to lead this evening, my…gentleman.”

Zayn snorts at the cheesy line, but ignites inside, nodding wordlessly. Liam sweeps Zayn in close and impressively leads him around the dancefloor, gaining an audience as the song builds. Zayn loses himself in the familiar beat of the song and the increasingly familiar feel of Liam’s hold. As the song comes to a close, a crowd around them has begun clapping and whistling. Even Harry and Louis cheer them on, whooping and winking as blush creeps into Zayn’s cheeks. It takes him a moment to realize he’s still clinging tightly to Liam’s shoulder and waist in front of everyone and once he does, he quickly drops his hands and backs an inch away from Liam, an inch further than he wants to be.

Harry and Louis rush at them, flailing and flapping and cooing. They envelop them in a clamber of limbs, hugs, kisses. “Oi, this is your wedding, mates,” Zayn finally concedes, laughter bubbling out of his chest. “We should be smothering you with love. Or, better yet, you should be smothering each other…no wait, save that for later.”

“Ah, finally I meet the heralded Zayn,” Louis quips, embracing Zayn’s lanky frame in his equally languid shape. “H has told me loads about you, mostly good,” he winks. “But you are so much prettier than I pictured, and I’ve even seen the pictures.” Harry shoves Louis’ arm, pouting. “Oh hush love, we’re married now. And you know I think you’re the prettiest of the princesses,” he coos and Liam feigns gagging behind them. The four of them exchange more jokes and jabs, kisses and hugs, and eventually they move along to greet the other guests, leaving Liam and Zayn together on the slowly emptying dance floor.

“Have a rest?” Zayn suggests, pointing to an empty sofa in the far corner of the room.

“Read my mind,” Liam smiles, linking his arm in Zayn’s as they waltz across the room, steps falling in synch easily. “Seems we were a big hit,” Liam muses as they settle into the soft cushions, legs barely touching.

“Seems you are an impressive student, dancing shoes,” Zayn smirks, elbowing Liam and smiling fondly.

“Well, I had a great teacher some time ago, showed me the ropes. Can’t take all the credit now.” Liam relaxes back and a sleepy smile forms on his lips. Zayn can’t help but stare. He finds himself mirroring Liam’s position and the two of them remain there for a while, knees finding each other and bumping lightly. Zayn’s eyes drift closed and he feels a gently nudge minutes later. His eyes flutter open and he sees Liam, just where he was, eyes softly asleep, his palm open atop Zayn’s knee.

Zayn can’t figure out what it is, but there’s something about being around Liam that makes him brave. He quietly shifts half an inch closer, fusing their legs together, and placing his fingertips in Liam’s before gently closing his eyes again and pretending to fall back asleep. A few moments later Liam stirs and Zayn can’t tell, but he just knows and feels Liam smile.

**

Two weeks later, Zayn is pacing his dorm room. After waking up next to Liam on the couch at the wedding reception, Zayn felt something change between them, something easy and electric at the same time. Liam felt it, too, Zayn thinks, because he asked him if they could meet up again in a few weeks’ time. Zayn had to remind himself not to accept too quickly, but said yes and gave Liam his number so they could arrange a date. A date. As Liam walked Zayn to his car at the end of the night, he leaned down to kiss his forehead lightly, saying “until next time, maestro,” his smile radiating in the dark.

“Oi, I’m trying to study, mate, all that pacing is breaking my concentration!” Zayn’s roommate Niall whines as Zayn nervously walks circles around their tiny room in preparation for his date.

“Hush up, you never study. The only thing I’m interrupting is your browsing Busty Asian Beauties,” Zayn snaps, whipping his head towards Niall’s computer, its screen lit with porn ads. Niall grumbles something inaudible and Zayn goes back to pacing.

“Do I at least get to meet the bloke?” Niall asks a few minutes later.

Zayn pokes his head out of the closet, his arm halfway into a sweater sleeve, his hair a mess. “Yes. Maybe. Not tonight.” Niall begins to protest, but Zayn is all nerves and no patience. “Just…not yet, ok?” He softens, pulling the sweater fully on and standing in front of the mirror on the back of his door.

“You look great, Z,” Niall admits. “Although, come’re.” Niall leans over nearly falling out of his chair and adjusts Zayn’s hair so it falls just so across his forehead, drooping above his eye. “Perfect. Lucky lad you’ve got yourself tonight.” Niall beams, all teeth and glinting eyes, and Zayn inhales deeply and tells himself the same.

**

Zayn insisted on meeting Liam downstairs so he didn’t have to awkwardly knock on his dorm room door. Things between them at the wedding felt so easy, so adult, but now, descending the stairs in his dormitory, having left his roommate behind for the night, Zayn feels a bit juvenile, like they’ve gone backwards, and all the bravery and calm he has come to feel in Liam’s presence is slipping away.

Liam was set on picking Zayn up properly, despite Zayn’s protests that driving over an hour was too much trouble and they should just meet in the middle. “Let me do this, please,” Liam had murmured over the phone a few nights before. Zayn had curled himself into a cozy spot in the closet padded with a mix of his and Niall’s hoodies, seeking privacy, although Niall was nowhere to be found and really wouldn’t have minded. But Zayn wanted Liam’s voice all to himself, even if that meant memorizing its sound in the seclusion of his warm, soft, makeshift hiding spot.

It is just cold enough that Zayn needs his sweater, but not his coat. He pulls his sleeves, softly worn and emerald green, down to conceal his wrists the way he had been doing since he was a kid and his clothes were always just half a size too baggy for his small frame, and calmly, at least on the outside, walks towards the door.

Liam is just pulling up alongside the curb as Zayn exits his dorm; ever the gentleman, Liam rushes to open Zayn’s door, earning a flush in Zayn’s cheeks that is visible even in the dim glow of the streetlamp. “At least tell me where we’re going?” Zayn pleads as he protests Liam’s chivalry to no avail, sliding into the passenger seat and watching Liam gingerly press the door closed and smile through the window. Zayn rolls his eyes but allows the heat to creep into his cheeks while Liam is rounding his way back to the driver’s side.

“That, my dear, would ruin the surprise,” Liam insists, casting a sidelong grin at Zayn. He settles back into his seat, adjusting his seatbelt across his chest, smoothing out his freshly ironed button-up. Zayn momentarily flashes back to the night they first met, the prep school Liam alive and well, and smiles fondly.

“Do I get a clue?” Zayn asks, fixing his eyes straight ahead as Liam puts the car into motion. Liam considers it, tipping his head from side to side, and turns up the song that has been quiet background noise in response. Zayn groans softly and fidgets with his fingers in his lap.

_Saturday in the park_  
 _I think it was the 4th of July_  
 _People dancing_  
 _People laughing_  
 _A man selling ice cream_  
 _Singing Italian songs…._

They drive for a few moments, the only sound filling the car the jazzy notes from the song Liam has playing.

“Not one little, itty bitty clue?” Zayn whines, turning to Liam to produce a pout he has always been told he is famous for.

_Another day in the park_  
 _I think it was the 4th of July_  
 _People talking_  
 _Reading_  
 _Smiling_  
 _A man plays guitar_  
 _Singing for us all_

Liam leans over and gently places his finger to Zayn’s lips. “Listen, love.”

Zayn scrunches his face in confusion and his lip trembles with the delicious, airy touch of Liam’s fingertips and his chest booms from the delicate ease of the endearing term, but does as he is told.

_Funny days in the park_  
 _Every day’s the 4th of July_

It slowly dawns on Zayn, heat creeping through his body, that Liam’s song choice was meant for him and he had been too nervous, too jumpy, too whiny to notice. And the heat seeps into his stomach and he twists his lips into a smile, mentally laying his hand across his heart. Zayn doesn’t want to seem daft so he simply says, “the park,” and Liam nods, grinning at his cleverness. They ride in easy silence for a few moments more and Zayn wills his hand to reach out to meet Liam’s halfway between them, clasping his fingers around Liam’s, and squeezing gently.

When they arrive, the sun has completely set, and the park is empty. It is not a park Zayn recognizes, but he gathers that it is a place meaningful to Liam. Liam squeezes Zayn’s fingers back and turns to him. “Ready?”

“Dunno what for,” Zayn mumbles, soundlessly cursing himself, and adding, “but yes, yes I am very ready.” He tacks on a smirk and turns to get out of the car.

Before Liam can open his door a second time, Zayn is smoothing out his jeans and attempting to lean casually against the closed door behind him. “Beat me to it,” Liam quips, beaming, and offers his elbow to Zayn. Zayn accepts and lets Liam lead him to wherever their destination may be.

“I used to come here when I first started uni,” Liam explains. “Needed a place to get away from it all, you know?” Zayn nods because he does know. He used to do the same thing, get away from it all, but he preferred to hole up in the little bookstore off campus or drive his car out to the edge of town and sketch scenes overlooking the valley. He yearns to tell Liam these things, all the things he keeps secret, but he refuses to interrupt Liam’s steady, easy stream of words, the way syllables tumble so effortlessly out of his mouth and form gorgeous sentences in dead air. “So I would come here if I was stressed or lonely or…just wanted to think.” They reach a copse of trees that opens to reveal an empty gazebo, the sole source of light in any direction. Liam lets his arm loosen to link their hands together at the wrist and tugs Zayn gently forward.

Suddenly Liam’s running up the tiny set of steps with Zayn trailing, stumbling behind him. “Not so graceful anymore, huh?” Liam smirks, chucklingly heartily. Zayn grunts, brushing himself off, but can’t help but smile.

“More of a leader than a follower,” he replies coolly, joining Liam in the center of the small, circular structure. The round floor is paneled in wooden beams with benches lining the enclosure. Liam parks himself on one of the benches, pulls his legs into his chest, and invites Zayn to sit opposite him. Zayn takes the seat, pulling himself into a mirrored position, and finally takes a moment to look around.

The sky outside is pitch dark now, lit only by a small smattering of stars in the distance, and the bright lights inside the gazebo feel like spotlights, hot and just for them. “Is cool, this place,” Zayn says, turning back to Liam.

“I’m glad you think so, I was hoping you would,” Liam touches his hand to Zayn’s knee and the lights suddenly feel like fire.

“I can see why you used to come,” Zayn hums, falling silent once more, buzzing underneath Liam’s touch.

“Used to sit right here,” Liam pats the bench under him, “sometimes read, sometimes write, mostly just think and sing.” Liam flushes pink to his ears and mashes his lips together.

“I keep hearing about this mysterious singing ability of yours,” Zayn grins darkly. “You’ve seen me dance, it’s only fair…”

Liam groans, rolling his eyes. “Should’ve known to expect that…” He hugs his knees in closer, careful not to crease his jeans too much, and Zayn toes Liam’s topsider with the edge of his scuffed up trainer.

“I hope you came prepared,” Zayn murmurs, kicking at Liam’s foot again, more playfully this time. “I would hate to be disappointed on the first date.”

“I bet you would, now,” Liam smirks, clearing his throat. “Ahem.”

“Do you need a beat?” Zayn interrupts.   
“Thank you, but I prefer to go a cappella,” Liam explains, the Prep slowly creeping back into his persona.

Zayn holds up his hands in mock defense. “So sorry, go right ahead, your majesty.”

Liam shoots him a glare that quickly fades into a glittering wink and purses his mouth.

_I’ve got you under my skin_  
 _I’ve got you deep in the heart of me_  
 _So deep in my heart_  
 _That you’re really a part of me_  
 _I’ve got you under my skin_

Liam croons and Zayn— internally— swoons and suddenly everything falls away. Zayn is back in the living room, six years old, practicing beginner steps by standing on his mother’s feet and feeling the music move deep within him. He closes his eyes, listening to the way Liam’s soulful voice matches the old, jazzy standard, and lets himself sway. Before he knows what is happening, Liam is pulling him to his feet, pressing him close, and moving them in swirls and spins around the gazebo floor. Zayn softly laughs, stifling the childlike giggles that threaten to bubble from his chest and through his lips, tossing his head back momentarily and coming back to meet Liam’s eyes. Liam’s eyes are transfixed on Zayn’s, even as they twist and spin, keeping their balance and keeping Zayn close.

Liam deftly outstretches his arm, curling Zayn out to his fingertips, then swinging him back in close, a move Zayn perfected years ago, but has never had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of. Dizzy, Zayn stretches up to Liam’s ear, whispering, “slow now, babe,” and Liam appeases, drawing out the syllables, the beats of the song, bringing their movement to a lazy sway. Liam finishes the final notes of the song and holds Zayn still in his arms.

Zayn stays there, breathing, breathing in Liam, his scent of fresh laundry soap, peppermint toothpaste, and…something Zayn can’t quite pin down. Paper. No. Pages. Sheets of music. Liam smells like music. Zayn fumbles, ever so slightly, at the thought and Liam is there to steady him. “You okay?” Liam murmurs into Zayn’s collarbone, pulling back just so to meet his wild eyes.

“More than,” Zayn whispers. “Just taking it all in.” His eyes linger as he tries to memorize Liam’s eyes, a color he will have to find a name for later, and he reaches up, just inching up on his toes, and plants a surprisingly gentle yet passionate kiss on Liam’s lips. He keeps his eyes open, slightly, just enough to register the fleeting look of shock in Liam’s eyes that quickly melts into approval and catches up to his lips. He presses back, just as sweetly and eagerly, moaning into the kiss. Zayn tightens his grip on Liam’s lower back and pulls him in closer, touching every point of their bodies together, and deepens the kiss, moving his mouth against Liam’s, inviting him nearer. Liam presses into Zayn, although there isn’t any more distance for them to cover, and nips at Zayn’s bottom lip. Zayn answers back, switching gears by pushing his tongue inside Liam’s mouth, eliciting another moan, and sucking on his bottom lip once the sound escapes.  
“Zayn, I…” Liam tries, but Zayn returns for more, showing Liam how mesmerized he is by everything Liam simply is. Finally, panting, they break apart, dropping their arms into the space between them, linking hands at the fingers. “Yeah.”

“Like I said,” Zayn breathes. “Just taking it all in.”

**

It’s two years later and they’ve just moved into their first flat together. Zayn is working for a start-up a few towns over, managing their publicity and media, and Liam is teaching music back at Prep, giving private vocal lessons on the side. They don’t have much, but they can afford a small flat just miles from where they grew up, where this whole thing began.

Zayn spends the evenings curled up with a book on their hand-me-down sofa from his parents while Liam flips through pages of music and lesson plans, at times asking Zayn’s opinion on certain pieces he wants to showcase in his classes. Zayn listens while reading and re-reading his favorite novels. One night, Liam is in their kitchen, fiddling with an old radio he’s found buried in his things from his Prep days, when Zayn hears the crackling of an old familiar tune.

Zayn unfurls himself from the couch and goes to the kitchen, expecting Liam to be hard at work jotting down notes or biting his lip in concentration trying to figure out a way to transform the song and make it his own. He finds Liam casually leaning against the stovetop, eyes following Zayn as he approaches. Liam extends his hand and murmurs, “May I have this dance, my dear?” Zayn’s stomach swoops because he knows Liam is a hopeless romantic, but they’ve been so busy lately and money has been tight and they haven’t danced in ages.

“You may,” Zayn nods, trying to conceal his excitement, and places his fingers in Liam’s. Liam pulls him in and immediately they’re in another world, another time, swirling in circles, pressed tight together, in a dream as the tinny notes fill the room. Somewhere between dips and spins, Liam slows the pace, holding Zayn to his chest, pressing their noses together.

“Remember when I couldn’t dance?” he whispers.

“How could I forget?” Zayn replies, smiling at the memory of their first night.

“And look where we are now,” Liam continues, swaying their bodies in unison. “I love you, Zayn. From my fingers to my dancing toes.” Zayn lets out a low laugh and buries his face in the dip in Liam’s collarbone where he fits just right. Liam nuzzles Zayn’s neck and plants light kisses along his skin. They sway together until the song ends and Liam pulls back just slightly. He tugs Zayn by the hands and, leaning back against the countertop, draws him close. Holding their hands together between them, Liam takes a deep breath. “That first day we met, you took the lead when I couldn’t and now, I think it’s my turn.” Liam carefully reaches into his pocket and Zayn’s golden eyes go wide, puddles of warm, spilling light, matching the gleam in Liam’s as their eyes meet a second later. “Zayn,” he starts, dropping to his knee, “Will you be my partner for however many more dances we may have together in life? Marry me?”

Zayn chokes out a cross between a whimper and a laugh and crouches down to Liam’s level. He silently takes Liam’s face in his hands, cupping his face, and kisses him sweetly on the mouth. “Yes, yes, yes,” he finally manages, and Liam kisses him back. The songs in the background fade in and out, ever the soundtrack to their love, as they spend hours kissing and laughing and crying on that tiny, tiled, sticky kitchen floor.

**

They plan the wedding for the next June, right when Liam finishes the school year. Things are going well for Liam; he has taken on some extra students in after school voice lessons and has begun mentoring a few other students in his spare time. Where things are going well for Liam, they are going even better for Zayn; he has taken the lead on a couple of new projects at work and has been promoted. Planning a wedding on top of everything has not been easy, but they are both eager to finally be married and refuse to put it off any longer.

In January, the air grows cold and Zayn’s disposition goes along with it. He becomes increasingly more moody and buries himself in work, even during the evenings when he and Liam usually have their well-practiced routine of being separate, but somehow still together.

After a few nights of it, Liam gingerly approaches the topic. Zayn is in the living room, papers and pens spread across the entire length of the floor, biting his lip fiercely in concentration. Liam has just gotten off the phone with his mum, concerned about Zayn’s moodiness, and slowly enters into Zayn’s workspace.

He clears his throat gently and says, “Mum says hi.” He blushes, knowing it’s not the right thing to say, not the right moment, but it’s too late.

Without removing his eyes from his project on the floor, Zayn replies shortly, “great, good.”

“She’s worried about you, you know,” Liam goes on, literally testing the ice by inching forward. “I am, too. Lately you’ve been…”

“We are supposed to be partners, Liam,” Zayn interjects, finally snapping his head up and looking directly into Liam’s now wounded eyes. Liam freezes, not expecting anything like this. Zayn waits, expectantly, as Liam formulates a response but doesn’t utter a word. “Isn’t that what we said we would be? Partners? Like all the goddamn dancing we do together, or, used to do together.” This is how Zayn fights. It’s not often, but it’s always harsh, using sweet, cherished moments as ammunition. Liam always tries to remain calm, tries to reason, but when Zayn takes shots, Liam bleeds.

“Oh, stupid me, I thought we _were_ , Zayn!” Liam fires back, flinging his hands up in surrender, backing away towards the kitchen again. “I should know. I’m the one who asked you, those fighting words are mine.”

“Well, stupid me too, I thought we were, too!” Zayn spits, ignoring how idiotic his comment sounds and that it makes no sense. Most of the time, his arguments make no sense, but when he is upset, he can’t care about things like that.

“That…”

“It makes no sense, I know, shove off,” Zayn snaps.

“Z,” Liam tries, bringing himself back down, letting Zayn’s gibberish level his thoughts.

“Don’t you, _Z_ , me right now, Leeyum! Not when I’m fuming mad at you.”

“Care explaining why, then? Since I’m here without a clue in the world why we’re fighting, as usual, and I would love to be in on the secret,” Liam replies, attempting to keep his tone calm, as always. Usually, Zayn seethes and babbles nonsense until he feels better and they make up over whatever the non-issue of the moment is and Liam remains calm and tries to reason, tries to figure out what Zayn’s going on about, tries to bring them back to earth.

“It’s like I said,” Zayn continues, his tone quieter but still biting. “I thought we were partners. You and me, always have been. Sometimes you lead, sometimes I lead, but we are always, always partners.”

“I…I got that part…” Liam struggles, knitting his eyebrows together.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t seem like it much lately. Who called everyone about the engagement? You. Who went and booked all the wedding things, the photographer, the venue, the band? You. Who spilled the beans about the promotion I got? Y O U!”

The anger has faded and now Liam is honestly dumbstruck, eyes blown wide and childlike, searching Zayn’s. “Babe, I…didn’t know it was that important to you, for us, to make every single decision together. I mean, that’s not realistic, is it?” As soon as the words fall out of his mouth, he knows they were the wrong ones.

“Well I don’t need a consult when you take a piss, no, but decisions that impact us both seem important, Li,” Zayn’s tone softens just slightly as he slips the nickname out and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Liam, who tentatively approaches Zayn again, gently grazing his fingertips along Zayn’s knuckles, chapped from all his hours spent with pencils and books curled in his hands, fading white now from anger.

“Zayn,” he murmurs, bringing their eyes to meet, trying to melt Zayn’s icy scowl with his warm, chocolate stare. “You’ve been so busy lately, working double time on your new project, and I’ve had some free time, I thought it would be helpful to get out ahead of these things. I…” Liam screws his face into a look so genuine and charming, a look he gave Zayn on that very first night at the party, and Zayn feels an honest to goodness thud in his chest. “I didn’t realize…I’m so…I’m so sorry, love.”

Zayn scrubs his face in his hands and sighs. “I don’t want you to be sorry, Li,” he says, regaining composure. “I just want us to be in this together. Like it’s always been. Things have always been so easy with us. We’ve never had to…try.”

Liam finally finds a seat next to Zayn on the floor, careful not to muss any of his work, and curls his hands fully around Zayn’s. “You’re right,” Liam breathes and for once, that’s the exact right thing to say. Zayn smirks before biting back a bigger smile forming and sighs again. “We have been so used to easy and now, when it’s been getting hard, it’s…hard, plain and simple. I really, truly thought it would be helpful to handle all of these things alone, but we are so much better as a team, you and me.” Liam lightly taps Zayn’s nose and Zayn smiles, small but honest.

“I was being stupid,” Zayn admits, shrugging. “You’re always just trying to help, Li, it’s what I love about you. I just felt left out, is all,” Zayn shrugs again, this time shrinking into himself, the boy he was all those years ago. Liam pulls him in, enveloping him entirely with his broad arms, and rests his chin on the top of his head.

“We were both being a little bit stupid, I think,” he whispers through a grin. “Let’s go back to making decisions together? Deal?”

“Deal,” Zayn mumbles into Liam’s chest. “Except, you know, the things I really don’t care about,” he replies, a smile creeping into his voice. “I don’t want you calling me from work every day to ask me to use the loo or how many sugars to put in your tea.”

Liam bursts into a loud, rumbling chuckle. “Yes, love, it’s me…again. Just calling to ask permission to loosen my tie, thanks,” he mocks and Zayn giggles, actually giggles, and they are back.

**

June 20th is unseasonably cool, thus a perfect day for an outdoor wedding. The skies are blue and speckled with clouds and the sun is just warm enough. The gathering is small, close family and friends only, and set neatly in a large patch of grass in a park by a lake. As guests trickle in, Liam and Zayn take turns peeking out from behind their respective posts, hidden from each other’s view, as per tradition they way they wanted it.

Zayn has asked Niall to officiate and Niall flipped actual cartwheels upon accepting, assuring Zayn he made the perfect choice. He approaches Zayn first, checking to make sure he is ready to begin. Zayn nods shakily, chewing the edge of his pinky nail. “You’ll be great, champ,” Niall claps him on the shoulder before pulling him into a bear-like hug and squeezing tight. Zayn loosens up a bit and shares a laugh with his friend.

“Thanks. For…everything, mate,” he tells Niall, shaking his hand.

“Anything for a gent like you, Zayn,” Niall beams, shaking his hand twice as wildly and smooching him on the cheek. “Better be off now, have to check on the other groom before we get this started. See you out there!”

Zayn waves him off and smooths his jacket, giving his sleeves a tug over his wrists for good measure.

**

“Liam? All set?” Niall rounds the corner and finds him wringing his fingers but smiling, as he almost always is.

“All set. Can’t believe this is…real,” Liam breathes, all nervous energy.

“Tis, my friend, tis. Well, if we’re all set, let’s get on with it!” Niall pulls Liam into a hug, quick but fond, and claps his arm in parting. “Oh, and your man looks dashing as ever,” he winks, waltzing away to find his place. Liam nibbles his lip to hold back a smile so big he is afraid it might permanently take over his face and takes one long, deep breath in.

**

“Zayn,” Liam begins, choking back a tear, beginning to read his list of promises aloud to the guests gathered. “From the day we first met, I knew there was something about you I would not be able to shake. Even if we never crossed paths again, I knew I would always remember the easy way about you, the low rumble of your laugh, and the way you moved me, physically moved me, and wriggled your way into my wide open heart.” Sobs begin to break out around them and Liam reaches up to dry an eye, daring a peek at Zayn just inches from him. Zayn is biting his lip, both out of habit and in an effort to stifle the whimpers he could easily let free. His eyes are alight, glowing a shade of gold-flecked sunshine Liam has never seen, and Liam blinks for almost a full minute to reclaim composure. “I will live every day ahead knowing that whatever lies there for me, you’ll be by me side and whatever lies there for you, I’ll be beside you, too. You are truly, and most cliche-ly, the love of my life, and I am so happy you have taught me not only to dance, but to love with everything I am. I love you.”

More sniffles and sobs punctuate the silence as Zayn prepares his vows. He clears his throat once, twice, three times for good measure and because he is actually speechless looking up through his lashes at his soon-to-be husband whose eyes are reflecting all the light for miles and filling Zayn’s veins with warmth. “My dearest Liam,” he starts. “As long as I can remember, my mum has told me that I’ll make a great dance partner for someone else some day. I didn’t take her seriously until I met you. You came into my life,” he pauses, clears his throat once more, “and I knew I had to find a way to keep you there. Despite it all, we found our way back to each other, always dancing in and out of each other’s lives,” he pauses for effect. “You keep me in balance, you calm my every storm, and I know you will stay with me no matter how moody or mopey I know, and you know, I will get.” Zayn smiles, one of his just-for-Liam smiles, and finally announces, “Liam, I love you.” He links their hands together between them and meets Liam’s equally watery, glowing gaze.

“Gents, you may now…” Niall stumbles to find the correct words and Liam and Zayn find their way to each other, not waiting for further instruction. They lean in simultaneously and meet each other’s lips, delicately and laced in silly grins, and the crowd bursts into applause and even louder tears.

They pull apart, just barely, and Liam simply whispers, “hello, husband” and Zayn goes a shade of gilded pink and whispers, “hello, husband,” in reply. Their hands still linked, they make their way down the makeshift aisle, receiving cheers and claps on the back and pinches on the cheeks that go unnoticed as they grip each other’s fingers for life and head for the clearing behind them. “Ready?” Liam shouts over the hum of people and Zayn turns, looking adorably confused as Liam scoops him up and carries him, laughter filling his round, cherub cheeks, over the edge of the aisle runner and swings them around in a circle. He gently sets Zayn down and leans back to look at him, take him in. People crowd around them, but Zayn takes a moment before the craziness ensues to gaze into Liam’s eyes and etch this moment, the first in their lives as a married couple, into his mind forever.

“Ready?” Zayn asks, reaching for Liam’s hand once more and breathing in deep.

“Let’s face our adoring public,” Liam smirks, his eyes creasing at the edges.

**

“Ladies and gentlemen, presenting for the first time as a married couple, Liam and Zayn…Malik-Payne,” Niall proudly announces from the stage, pausing for dramatics at the rhyming nature of their newly combined name. Liam holds their hands together, up in the air, waving like a trophy, and the smile on Zayn’s face is sparkling, blinding, and everything he never imagined a smile belonging to him could be. Liam catches a glance of Harry and Louis and knows, from Harry’s wink, that Harry is swooning that they, too, hyphenated.

The notes to Save The Last Dance (For Me) start coming from the band, jazzy and smooth.

“Do you hear that, love? They’re playing our song,” Liam coos in Zayn’s ear, tugging him close before spinning him out and leading him to the center of the dance floor. They move and sway effortlessly, perfectly matched partners, and everyone watches on in awe.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> P.S.  
> The songs in the fic are as follows, in case anyone is interested!
> 
> 1\. Title song/"do you hear that love, they're playing our song?" line = All About Us by He Is We feat. Aaron Gillespie (also a version with Owl City, but I prefer the former and that's the one I used as my inspiration) there are little threads of the song throughout, but unless you know the song well or read the lyrics, most of the references go unnoticed  
> 2\. Sway originally made famous by Dean Martin (I was thinking of the Michael Buble cover as I wrote) plays at H&L's wedding  
> 3\. Saturday In The Park by Chicago (plays in the car en route to the date)  
> 4\. I've Got You Under My Skin (inspired, again, but the Buble version) Liam sings to Zayn on their date  
> 5\. Save the Last Dance (also had the Buble version in mind as I wrote) -this is the song that is the other main thread throughout the piece, although Zayn never names it and it's not revealed until the end during the wedding that this is "their song" but it's the one I had in mind!


End file.
